blurred traffic

Learning the word 'Sonder' and thinking about it's meaning once a day can help you become a more giving, thoughtful person.

SONDER: The realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.

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Downtown behind Uptown by Samuel Wagner
Via Flickr:
Another very windy day made for tough shooting conditions.

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The Night 500px.com/photo/210926241 by Koukichi Takahashi
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BLOG | Facebook | STORE | Art pint/Wall art | via 500px 500px.com/photo/210926241

Hello hello!! Classes have gotten hectic but doodling a little on Friday nights make up for it…somewhat(*´◒`*) Its been a while since I’ve doodled something that’s not YOI related (*≧∀≦*) 💦💦 This is my living room! My favourite part is the windows and the picture frames holding Karina and Min’s drawings 💖(๑>◡<๑)💖 I like coming home and falling asleep on the couch even though I really should be studying 💦💦 // I’ve never heard it being used but Sonder supposingly means to realize that “each passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own…in which you may only appear once, as an extra slipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk” 🌌🌌!! That sounds so lovely and nostalgic 💖💖💖💖 :;(∩´﹏`∩);: I hope I was able to get that atmosphere across!! 💖

TLH snippet

Cordelia clutched Lucie’s hand as they jolted through the streets in the Carstairs’ carriage, surrounded by the blurred traffic of omnibuses, motorcars, and pedestrians. Advertisements whirled past. THE HORSESHOE HOTEL. THREE GUINEA STOUT. NEW PALACE STEAMERS. Signs advertising tailors and fishmongers, hair tonic and cheap printing.

Matthew, sitting across from them on the upholstered carriage seat, was muttering and swearing to himself, his hair sticking out madly.

“Hidebound,” he muttered. “Weasels.”

“What?” said Lucie.

“I think he said hidebound weasels,” said Cordelia. “But who do you mean, Matthew? Are you angry at us?”

Matthew flung himself sideways so his long legs were pulled up on the bench seat in front of him, and his profile was presented to Lucie and Cordelia. It was a fine profile: he was much more delicate-featured than his brother, who had a broad, strong face. Matthew had a face that looked as if it had been meant to be painted on china.

“Of course not,” he said. “It’s just appalling how they all treat James.” He glanced at Cordelia, and then at Lucie. “She knows, doesn’t she?”

sonder
—  noun | the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.
Sonder


n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.

Panic! at the hook-up (part 2)

Rating: M

Pairing: AkaFuri. MuraHimu. MidoTaka.

Characters: Akashi. Furihata. Himuro. Takao. Murasakibara. Mibuchi.

Word Count: 8900+ words (yikes!) 

Tags: Aged-Up Characters. One Night Stand AU. Fluff. Misunderstandings. Awkward dorks are awkward. Introspection. NebuMibu if you squint.

Parts: Part 1/Part 2(here)/Part 3

Summary: Akashi woke up after a drunk one night stand feeling at peace with the world. Unfortunately the brunet in his arms doesn’t seem to think the same way. (or an AU where Furi and Akashi have been scarred by terrible relationships in the past that one never wants to get into them and one waits in vain for someone to love him back)

Author’s notes : This chapter is not edited because I wanted to post it while I still got a handle on my writing drive. So, any mistakes, I will get to it when I find time. I went for a longer update because this has been pending for too long. Hope I am not dumping too much to take. Also, changed the title since I deemed that a cliché fic needed a cliché title. I sound like a mom leaving her kid in daycare bYE.

AO3 Link right here!

“Downtown, as fast as you can!! Hurry!”

Banging open the door, Kouki jumped in and promptly slumped against the back seat of the taxi after yelling instructions to the driver.

Well, that hadn’t been awkward and scarring at all.

Shutting his eyes and tipping his head back, he waited for his heartbeat to slow down from its rapid pace. He was still panting from all the panicked running and his ass hurt from him slamming down on the uncomfortable material of the seat. Despite the…..delicate position his ass was in, he had been able to run this fast, he thought wryly. He pressed the heel of his hands to his eyes, evening out his breathing with every passing second.

Oh god oh god oh god-

Deciding this was the best opportunity, his mind conjured up images of the stunning redhead and put it on a continuous annoying loop. Some were blurred and hazy and had too much of red but some were far too clear for him not to wince over. Those wide, gorgeous eyes, that glorious body he had come to appreciate so much last night, that velvety voice moaning wordlessly in his ear - sending shivers down his spine even now (pleasant shivers, good shivers, really good) - and ultimately, the words exchanged scant few minutes earlier that had sent him careening towards the door.

Oh. My. GOD.

Keep reading

“Sonder,” He says. I turn to look at him. “The sudden realization that everyone around you is living a life as vivid and complex as your own–populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries, and inherited craziness–an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.”

He grins, then, thumbs making circular movements on my hand. His white, mine brown. We’re molding together. “And yet, my dearest Lennie, none of us are insignificant. None of are is as temporary as a cup of coffee, as easily forgotten as traffic on a highway. We all live forever.” Maybe he says this because of Mummy, or because of my wonder, or just to say something, but it’s exactly what I needed to hear.

“Why must moments like this pass?” I ask. I glance back at the streets, still in wonder, the taste of the coffee still lingering on my tongue, the smell of old books invisible but palpable and oh so lovable.

“Because you may not know it yet, but there are better ones to come.”

— b.d. // The Art Of Imagination (not published)